Anne & Thrasher (a.k.a. Walter)

I’m always the last one up the hill, so I think it’s the original motor.

Owned since:

2015

Owners:

Young man, then an intermediary dealer, now me. Not sure who before that.

Location:

Pennsylvania

Favorite driving song:

I listen to all the old music when I drive: Bob Dylan, Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix . . .

I’d always wanted a Beetle, and my husband said “No way.” I made him take me for a test drive, and I just giggled and laughed the whole time and thought it was so cute. “We should buy it.” He’s like, “NO.” That marriage didn’t last. Once I was divorced, the first thing I did was buy my own Beetle.

I bought the Bug over twenty years ago and I love it. But then I would go to VW shows and see the Buses, and I thought, That’s what I really want. I assumed that the thing to do would be sell the Bug and get the Bus, but I couldn’t sell my little Beetle. Then I started thinking, Well, I have the money in a savings account. I think it was earning 1 or 2 percent, so I thought, Why not? The money was sitting there, doing nothing for me as far as fun, so I took it out and spent it on a Bus. Might as well have fun with my savings. Lo and behold, the Bus is probably worth more now. I truly believe instead of hoarding all your money, you should spend it and have fun with it while you’re alive. Now this poor little guy (Bug) gets left home when I go to all the Volkswagen shows.

The iconic little ball shape of the Beetles and the funny brick shape of this Bus—there’s really nothing else like these two shapes. A Bus stays iconic.

I met a man at the Flanders show, and he said, “I have my Bus sitting at home in my garage. I’m afraid to drive it.” I thought, Well, then why do you have it? What’s the very worst that could happen? You break down and you call a tow truck, but it’s probably not going to happen. I said, “You should really enjoy it and have fun. I do. And I keep the tow truck guy’s number in my phone!”

The last time I broke down I was halfway up the road to my house. I walked home to get the lawn-mower tractor and pulled the Bus home. Then I called the Volkswagen guy, and he came over. Yeah, loose wire.

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My daughter calls me a hippie—I tell her I’m a wannabe hippie. I do have a hippie outfit. I take people out to their prom or for wedding photos and dress up in my hippie outfit. I think Buses equate to the sixties and the Make Love Not War movement. That was the peace-and-love time, where we all could get in a predicament and still be kind to everyone. I think people really do like to be kind and like to hang around kind and friendly people. The Bus is an instant visual symbol that the drivers are going to be nice people.

I bought the Bus about ten years ago online, sight unseen. I trusted the guy and he had a good reputation. He said he had just taken it over from the wife of a thirty-year-old man in Oregon who had passed away in a motorcycle accident. She just wanted to make sure that the Thrasher sticker was never taken off. So I left the Thrasher sticker on and named it Thrasher. We’ve gone back and forth over the name because my daughter disagreed and named it Walter. So my daughter calls him Walter, and I call him Thrasher. I know that a lot of people have female cars, but I just felt like it’s a male car.

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It’s been a tremendous amount of fun. I started going to car shows and bringing a case of honey with me—I’ve been a beekeeper for a couple years longer than I’ve had the Bus. I always open the Bus doors at a car show, so why not sell honey. It’s been really successful. This year I produced seven hundred pounds of honey. My hives keep growing. When I get extra queen cells, it’s very hard for me to squish them. I just make a little “insurance” hive in case one dies over the winter. Well, next thing you know, there are thirteen hives!

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It’s really funny when I have my significant other with me at the car shows. Everyone walks up to him and says, “Love your Bus.” He says, “Not mine,” and then they start asking him questions. We’ve only been dating a few months, so he doesn’t really know a whole lot. Eventually, he just goes, “Talk to her.”

​These cars also bring back childhood memories. When I was growing up, my mom had a black Beetle hardtop. My mother brought me home from the hospital in a laundry basket in the back seat. That’s how things were done in the old days. Mom took us everywhere, and we all piled in. Being the youngest of five, my seat was the “way back,” that little cubby way in the back—that was my spot. It was my mother, plus one in the front passenger seat, three in the back, and me in the way back. We all fit in there. It was our station wagon.

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My mother is ninety, and she manages the Book Barn and she’s going strong. She’ll never quit. She’s the one that just does what she wants to do regardless of what you’re supposed to do. I guess I am like my mom. I go for it.